


Sibyl

by infernal



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Canon Divergence, F/M, Gothic, Kinloch Hold, Mages and Templars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-06-23 22:21:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19710637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/infernal/pseuds/infernal
Summary: When the Templars came to the alienage, Neria Surana was ready for them.





	Sibyl

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Artemis1000](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artemis1000/gifts).



> For the [Iron Triangle Challenge](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/irontriangle_july2019/), requested tags: Gothic, Mages and Templars.

When the Templars came to the alienage, Neria Surana was ready for them. She sat in front of the orphanage, the hem of her threadbare dress too short to hide the way one foot tapped impatiently against the stone steps. Cullen had been nervous on the journey -- he was still just a recruit, after all, and would normally never be sent to aid in the capture and transportation of a mage. But the Circle had no one else to send, and had decided Cullen was to aid Ser Otto on his task.

Of course, a mage was always a danger -- his training had been perfectly clear on that. But Cullen's nerves abated nonetheless as they walked towards the girl awaiting their arrival. Aside from her lack of patience -- was this even the mage they sought, Cullen wondered, surely apostates were never this anxious for the Templars' arrival? -- there was something calming in the way she looked up at them, her eyes brightening and a welcoming smile upon her lips. "Good afternoon," she said, blinking up at them. "I'm very glad to see that it's the two of you they sent." 

Confused, Cullen shot a look at Otto, and was gratified to see a similar expression on his face. "Good afternoon," Otto echoed. "Would you, by chance, be Neria Surana?"

"It's hardly by chance," she said. Her voice was soft, and Cullen found himself leaning in to hear her better. "But yes, I am. And you are Ser Otto and Ser Cullen, I believe."

"We are indeed," Ser Otto said, inclining his head. "We've come to escort you to the Circle. If you have any goodbyes you wish to say..."

"The matron was very insistent that I not return inside," she said.

"I will speak with her for a moment, let her know we've taken you so she does not worry --"

"She won't worry," Neria said. "And you shouldn't go in there. No one should, but certainly not you, Ser Otto." For the first time, the calm, pleasant tones of her voice rose in agitation, and Cullen barely stopped himself from taking a step backwards.

Otto was flummoxed, and Cullen cleared his throat. "I suppose a Templar might frighten the children," he suggested. "Perhaps seeing someone closer to their own age would be less imposing? I'd be happy to speak to the matron," he said. Otto gave him an approving look, but it was Neria's slow nod after a moment of thought that had him entering the building.

* * *

The matron had a pinched, stressed face that sagged in relief when she saw the insignia on Cullen's armor. "That girl," she started, and then shook her head. "Well, you've all sorts of odd ones in that tower, I'm sure. Proper place for her." 

"Ah -- yes," Cullen said. "Tell me, what sort of girl is she?" 

"There's no malice to her," the matron said. "You won't have any trouble from her in that regard. She doesn't seek trouble, but it follows her all the same. Her poor mother was just the same, I hear, and her grandmother before her."

"I see," said Cullen, who rather felt he didn't. He racked his brain for something else to say, and remembered the briefing he'd been given en route to Denerim. "Her magic manifested by healing, I believe?" he asked hopefully. Spirit healers were always a greater risk, of course, but young mages' healing tended to be intuitive, not guided by denizens of the Fade, and an aptitude for such healing generally spoke well of a mage's character. 

"Oh, no," the matron said. "She healed herself from a wound that should have been fatal, yes -- but we've known she was different for years now. She's always talking to things no one else can see, and they -- they talk to her, too. The things she says... well, they're just horrid, you know."

"Thank you for the information," Cullen said politely, though he felt she'd been as clear as mud. "Well, you can rest assured that we will take good care of your charge, and as you say, it is the proper place for her."

* * *

When he returned, Neria was standing beside Ser Otto, shifting restlessly from foot to foot. "Everything is in order," Cullen said. "Although -- Mistress Surana, the matron mentioned that you magically healed a mortal blow?" Neria nodded, a wary look settling over her face. "Were you able to heal the wound to completion? That is, we have some potions should you require one."

"Oh," Neria said, her expression softening. "Oh, no, I'm fine, thank you. I'm ready to leave, and I think we should go now. There isn't long." 

"Yes, it is getting rather late in the day, isn't it?" Ser Otto said, his pale eyes -- the old injury to them grew every year -- squinting up at the fading daylight. Neria gave him a strange smile, and Cullen felt that hadn't been what she meant at all. 

When word came that the alienage orphanage had burned that very night, Cullen was hardly surprised, though a chill shot through his spine at the news.

* * *

Neria settled in well at the Circle, though she was given a wide berth by her peers and the Templars alike. Cullen was rather glad for the latter; a few of his fellow recruits showed a wholly inappropriate interest in some of their charges, and Neria -- well, she was very pretty. She would be popular, he thought, were it not for the things she said. He'd wondered if the matron's warning had been about some hidden cruelty, but it became clear that Neria had a certain insight -- or rather, _foresight_ \-- into things to come, and Cullen could see how it could be unsettling. As the matron had said, there was no malice to her; though her warnings were often ominous, he was sure that she told them out of kindness, hoping to spare them from unknown tragedies. 

The enchanters, at least, treated her well. Only Uldred ever had an unkind word for her, though Cullen suspected that was because Neria avoided him just as the other students shunned her. Cullen asked her one day, as gently as possible, if he'd done anything; the templars could intervene, of course, on her behalf. She shook her head adamantly. "You can't punish someone for something they haven't done yet, Ser Cullen," she said, and then her voice took on that note of agitation he'd heard only once before. "Even if they will surely do it." 

"It must be difficult," he said, voice soft. "To see what's coming, I mean. That's quite a heavy burden." 

She shrugged. "I suppose so. But I don't see it myself, you know. It's -- well. I'm just told what will come." She looked down at her hands for a moment and then placed them over his, gripping them tightly. He should pull away, he thought; he'd been speaking to her for quite a while, now, and it would be bad enough to be caught showing an interest in her, let alone touching her. But her hands were warm, and soft, and he found himself closing his fingers over hers. "Cullen," she said, her voice urgent. "If I knew something -- something about you," she said. "Would you want a warning?" 

He thought about it for a moment, and then nodded.

"Would you _take_ a warning?" she pressed.

"If I could," he said. "I would try." 

"After Ostagar, you _must_ leave the Tower." 

"I cannot _leave_ ," he protested, and she shook her head.

"Ser Otto will want to go to Denerim to investigate maleficar. You must stop him, too. If you can find any other task, _anything_ , that takes you elsewhere, you must do so." 

"Why are you telling me this?" he asked. 

She was quiet for a moment. "Most Templars are cruel, Cullen, though I'm sure you're loathe to hear it. You aren't, and Otto isn't. You have both been kind to me, and I would not see the world robbed of that kindness." 

Neria squeezed his hands and then released them. A moment later, he heard footsteps approaching, and he turned in a panic to see if they'd been spotted; when he looked back, Neria was gone, slipping silently around the corner of the hallway.

* * *

The years passed. Cullen was made a full Templar, and Neria passed her Harrowing with little difficulty, much to Cullen's relief. There was a strange tension to the tower these days; most of the healers and battle-mages had left for Ostagar, with many of the Templars accompanying them, and Cullen, who had not thought of Neria's dire warning in recent years, now found it on his mind constantly, an undercurrent of dread accompanying the memory. 

The morning after her Harrowing, he found her in an alcove with Jowan, their heads tucked close together. He was surprised by the force of his jealousy -- then again, no one ever voluntarily spoke with Neria but him, and he'd never had reason before to be jealous. Jowan looked a little ruffled, but Neria was unbothered by his appearance; if they'd been doing anything, she wasn't ashamed of it. "Break it up, then," he said, as lightly as he could. Jowan fled, sputtering out an apology, but Neria just gave him a smile. 

Three days later, Jowan had disappeared from the tower, his phylactery along with him, leaving nothing but rumors of blood magic in his wake. "Did you know what he would do?" Cullen demanded when he was able to catch her alone. 

"The alternative was worse," she said. "Two innocent people would have been sent to the Aeonar, and Jowan would have escaped anyway. A noble would be poisoned, dozens in Redcliffe would die, and a child would become possessed. The boy would die, then. Or his mother. Or neither." She frowned, shaking her head. "That one's a little muddy." 

"But the rest is so clear?" he asked. She had never spoken to him so plainly before of her knowledge, and the depth of them surprised him. "Neria, how do you know?" 

"You won't like it," she said, and he looked at her expectantly. "Rigel told me." 

"Rigel -- " Cullen remembered him, of course; Rigel had been a talented apprentice, well-liked and being groomed for a teaching position, until his magic grew too unpredictable and he'd been made Tranquil. "Neria..."

"When you cut them off from the Fade, they stay cut off," she said, her voice colder than he'd ever heard it. "It doesn't end, not after they die, and they have nowhere to go but here, and no one to talk to but me. And they _see_ , Cullen. They see so far ahead." 

Cullen shivered, reaching out to touch her elbow. "Neria, _how many are there_?"

"Kinloch Hold has been home to the Circle since the Towers Age," she said. "I'm sure Owain could find the records for you." 

He stepped away, then, shivering again as he wondered if Rigel was here, now; and if not him, surely there was some other, one of a countless horde of ghosts that teemed within the Tower walls, trapped there as surely as they'd been trapped there in life. 

"Cullen," she called as he staggered away from her. "A few years ago I gave you a warning. It's almost time. I -- I need you to heed it, Cullen." 

He whirled back around, looking at her incredulously. "You would still have me betray my order?"

"I would have you live, and not shatter," she said. "I would have you be free."

"And what of you?"

Her smile was sad. "I will have many more ghosts to meet before I can be free, too," she said.

"Neria --"

She surged forward, then, tipping her lips up to catch his. He froze, his heart in his throat, and then let his eyes shut. His hands were gauntleted; he pulled one off, letting his bare fingers twine in her hair as she kissed him. It was a sweet kiss, and it felt like a farewell kiss.

"I had to know," she said, her eyes wet. "If you stay, you'll never look at me the same, and -- I won't see you again, not for years at least. And it won't be the same as it was." Her eyes went distant for a moment, looking at something -- someone? -- behind him, and she let out a short, humorless laugh. "How could it be?" 

"I'll go," he promised. "I'll leave tomorrow, and I'll tell Ser Otto I need him with me on a hunt for maleficar in Amaranthine. I won't let him anywhere near Denerim."

"Not Amaranthine," she said. "But Redcliffe could use your help." 

"As you say," he replied. "Neria --" 

"This isn't a goodbye, then," she said, and she gave him a sweet smile. "Go, then, and get ready."

* * *

He didn't sleep that night, packing his things, wondering how he was to convince Greagoir to let them both go, and how he was going to convince Otto to come with him in the first place. He found the latter in the library, looking between two tomes on demonology before packing the larger one into his traveling rucksack. "Are you going somewhere?" he asked.

"I'm bound for Denerim," he said, and Cullen's heart sank. 

"Ser Otto, with so many at Ostagar, are you sure it's wise to go so far? I've heard rumblings of strange things happening in Redcliffe, and I was coming here to ask if you would lend your expertise."

"Maleficar do not wait for good timing," Otto chided him. "I must see this done."

"At least take someone with you," Cullen said, his heart sinking. "I would gladly accompany you, your sight is failing --"

"Which is why the Knight-Commander says he can spare only me for this task," Otto said, clapping him on the shoulder. "Farewell, Cullen. Take heart, my boy, things are better than you realize. The forces began to return from Ostagar last night." 

* * *

He might have made it out of the tower had he not stopped to ask Mahariel where Neria was. "Last I saw, she was downstairs with Petra and Keili," he said. "Er, Ser Cullen, are you quite all right?" 

But Cullen was already heading towards the stairs when he heard a terrible booming sound come from above, followed by screams. "What was that?" Mahariel whispered, and Cullen shook his head.

"Get to safety," he told Mahariel.

"And where exactly _is that_ ," Mahariel snapped, but Cullen was already running towards the stairs. 

* * *

_If you stay, you'll never look at me the same_ , she'd told him, and he hadn't understood. But now, with the demon shifting into her form, making sweet promises in his ear, smiling at him with too many teeth -- he wished he could say that she'd been wrong.


End file.
